An Unlikely Alliance
'Tavern Hall - ' ---- ::It is said - primarily by the proprietor, a jovial merchant-classer named Solas Creek - that all roads in Fastheld lead to the Lightholder Tavern. On any given night, it's not hard to see why he might justify such a claim. ::''The pub, which started centuries ago as a small refreshment wagon for laborers building Fastheld Keep atop Caryas Hill, sees boisterous crowds filling its rafters with laughter and pipe smoke at all hours of the day and night as travelers make their way through the realm. ::''About three dozen tables are arranged among the polished wooden columns on which hang the wrought-iron lanterns that help give the tavern its name. Solas or one of his assistants can usually be found working behind a wide C-shaped counter, serving mugs of keg-tapped ale to thirsty patrons who stand at the bar. ::''The floor is strewn with amber rushes, except in a circle of about twenty feet in diameter, where the stone fireplace and chimney rise toward the ceiling. ---- Enter: Autumn. It's not raining outside, thankfully, though from the slightly dampish look of some of the tavern's evening patrons, it could be in other places. Neither is it terribly windy--but it is cold. The fall season has officially Made Its Entrance, and it's done it with a bang. The air outside has a definite bite to it, a bite that makes several people near the entrance shiver every time the door opens. Zia's bright enough not to have perched near the entrance. Seated instead at the bar, the bardess's whitened, night-cooled fingers are wrapped firmly around a mug of tea, which she's making steady headway on. Those who've seen her a couple of times might notice that she goes through tea sometimes like a drunk goes through alcohol. Every now and then she pauses, inhaling the welcome fragrance and thinking a moment. The barkeep gives her a look every now and then--one that suggests some degree of familiarity--but he allows her her space just now. Enter: Cold Girl Very cold. Shivering lightly, Wildfire slips into the Tavern and closes the door behind her as quickly as she can manage. She adjusts the strap of her quiver and pulls her cloak around her tightly, looking towards the fire - no, all of the seats there are taken. With a sigh, the blonde makes instead for the bar. "Water," she orders shortly, "Warmed, if you'd be so kind." Zia glances over at the newcomer, long enough to recognize her, long enough for her brow to furrow in a moment of deeper thought. Her eyes look away, to the door this time, searching it as if expecting it to open and reveal somebody else, before looking back to Wildfire. "Where's your other half?" Okay, so not much of a preamble, but sometimes she isn't so much of a one for formalities, anyway. "I'm early," Wildfire replies, smirking over Zia's way as she takes a seat, "How've you been?" Zia smiles a little. "Oh... all right, I suppose." Well, maybe not exactly, but more information doesn't seem forthcoming. "You're expecting him tonight?" "Not tonight," the blonde shakes her head, "But I've nowhere better to be, so I figured I'd just wait here." "Not tonight," Zia echoes thoughtfully, considering Wildfire with a studious gaze. "You've been all right, too?" Wildfire receives her water with a thankful nod and a soft smile, wrapping her hands around the mug and taking a sip. "Close enough," Isa replies with half a shrug, not bothering to elaborate on what she means. Zia laughs wryly at that. "Fair enough," she answers, taking her own mug in hand and shifting on her barstool to face Isa more easily. "I guess Thayndor's interested in what's happening at Northreach?" "Pretty obvious assessment," Wildfire remarks, "All mages should be. Especially the Marked ones." "Not all mages have Darkwater to think of," Zia says quietly. "Not all of them are nobles, and not all of them are *Thayndor*, either." "Yeah, well," Isa shrugs, "Darkwater's been across the river from Sun's Keep this whole time and it's fine. Besides, didn't his house take that away from him? He doesn't exactly keep me informed about his life. Just tells me what I need to know to do my job." The pair are seated at the bar - Zia's got tea, Isa's got warmed water. Hands stuffed in his pockets, a red-headed teen walks into the tavern, scattering a few of the rushes on the floor as he goes. Brand is quiet tonight, and thoughtful. Zia nods to that, letting her gaze roam away to the window. "Now that they've made their move, I'd guess it'd be different, though," she notes. Her look passes briefly over Brand, before floating back to Isa. "What do you think about Northreach?" "I think it's disturbing," Isa replies, "Their Keep is pretty much quarantined and they still managed to take a fortified city. Proves no one has as much information about them as they'd thought." She pales slightly as she speaks, moving to sip at her water. Brand pauses as he catches site of Zia and Isa. The boy considers a moment, makes a face behind Isa's back, then approaches. Zia swallows a little more tea, and stifles a cough with the back of her hand--probably swallowed the wrong way. Looking up, she notes Brand's face-making curiously, and represses a bit of a smile. Instead, she nods to Isa. "It is a little unnerving, isn't it? Does it worry you, though? I mean... personally, instead of an eerie 'what happens next' sort of way?" "Yes," Isa nods, "I've heard enough stories about the Old Church that it bothers me." She blinks at Zia for a moment, before tuning to regard Brand. "Evening, Brand," she greets lightly. Zia nods, apparently satisfied with that answer as she takes another--more cautious--sip of her tea. "Hello." She likens Isa's greeting with one of her own. "Evening, /Isa/," Brand says sweetly. "And evening, Mistress Zia. Talking about those troubles up north?" The blonde smirks at Brand, but doesn't say anything. Isa settles for sipping at her water quietly. "Ah hear dey's got some new Embassies down at de Reach " the bartender says to a nearby customer. "'spects dere'll be some squabble o'er who gets t' do what in de city. Might be worth goin' t' visit no?" Zia shrugs a little. "Aye. I s'pose so," she replies evasively. Her gaze lingers an instant on Isa before going to contemplate the golden-brown tea in the bottom of her mug. Brand pulls out a seat at the table. "They'll go for Zahir lands, once they've taken the north," he says. "Makes sens that they'd want to," Wildfire remarks, "House Zahir tolerated Thayndor, after all, and Zahir lands have already had trouble with presumably anti-mage sentiments." Zia looks from Brand to Isa, and purses her lips. "Isa? A word, if you don't mind? 'tis more private upstairs," she says suddenly, and casts a vaguely apologetic look to Brand. "...Sorry. Perhaps a shade rude. It's somewhat important, I'm afraid." Rising to her feet, she downs the last of her tea and turns a charming smile on the barkeep. "Solas? A key for an old friend?" Brand nods slightly, watching. "Well, I was... thinking of those troubles, yes. Probably them." Isa blinks at Zia, "Meh... why not. Don't have anything better to do." The blonde rises, dropping some coin on the counter to pay for her beverage, and makes to follow after Ziavri, "Guess I'll talk to you a bit later, Brand." Solas hesitates a moment before rolling his eyes and passing a key to an apparently unoccupied room to Zia. Breathing a sigh of relief, the bardess smiles once more to Brand, and starts upstairs. ---- '''Lightholder Inn - ' ---- ::A wooden staircase angles up from the common room of the inn to this upper level, which is little more than a sort of attic corridor flanked by several doors that lead into small sleepchambers. ::''At all hours, day or night, one can usually hear the laughter and chatter from the tavern below. ---- Making up the stairs after the other woman, Isa sips at her mug and remains silent, watching Zia mildly. Zia sighs, giving the key a quick, expert twist in the lock of the door and slipping inside. "Sorry. This is probably more than a little abrupt--and somehow I doubt you're going to like what I have to say." She holds the door for Isa, and after the other woman steps in, will shut it and lock it again--just in case. "Like I said, I have nothing better to do," the girl remarks passively, following alont without argument. Zia casts a quick, assessing look about the room, gauging just how private 'private' is, before giving a satisfied nod. "You're planning something." Her eyes are on Wildfire's face as she makes this statement, watching, searching for signs of... something. "Not really," Isa remarks, "Plan's already been made, and I'm not the one who came up with it." She tilts her head, "And it's none of your business, but I have too much on my mind right now to care about secrecy. So what I've just said stays between us. Understood?" Zia smiles wryly. "Aye. Between us. I prefer to involve as few people as possible... but this is probably necessary. I know Thayndor--at least, well enough to know he is no fool. He is at least smart enough to use his wit in place of his brawn--that will be the Lomasas, I think. And I know *you* well enough to know that you're involved in it somehow, and that you're not completely inexperienced with this sort of thing. You're not who you say you are, are you?" "Took you long enough to figure it out," Wildfire nods, "I think we've met before I took on the new look, but it all gets swirled together." She runs her little finger over the scar on her left cheek, "You'd think this would be a dead give-away, but no one knew. Not even Thayndor, I had to come out and tell him." Zia shakes her head. "No. The disguise is masterful--scar or no. I didn't exactly know you *well* before you went into hiding, you'll remember... but I've suspected for awhile. Watch the Wildlanders--they recognize you as 'not one of them'." She sighs and crosses to the bed, seating herself carefully on the edge. "Tell me what the plan is?" "Another disguise," Wildfire replies, "And joining the anti-mage sentiments in hopes that I'll get the Church's attention. We need information, and that's the only way we can think of to get it." She scratches at her cheek, "I'm not one bit happy about it, but none of the options are good ones." Zia nods, slowly, turning this over in her head and gnawing lightly on her lower lip. "Were you I, how well would you trust you?" she asks, carefully. There are the eyes again, focused on Wildfire's face. "You barely know me, so I wouldn't," Isa replies plainly, "Even knowing me, if I were to look at my life from an outside point of view, I wouldn't trust me. Thief, former bandit, mistress of disguise... I /am/ trustworthy, but no one would ever believe it. Not that I care." Zia tilts her head, watching Isa speak... and her face breaks into a grin. "Aye. All right. Will you tell Thayndor about what we have said tonight, despite having agreed to keep it 'between us'?" "No, I won't tell him," Isa remarks, "I imagine he'd get pissed that I told anyone about his plan." Zia nods, and the grin fades once more into thoughtful silence. "I am going to Northreach," she says at least, voice quiet. "I do not like telling you, Risa, but it is more my fault--my instincts--than yours. And I think that our goals lie in the same direction, and that two of us will do better than one. You can keep a secret if you choose, we both know it, and so can I. You could blow my cover... and I could just as easily blow yours. Only I think neither one of us is inclined to--at least, I'm not. I think that puts us about on even footing, no?" Isa nods, "Yes, I'd say that makes us even. Except for the fact that you don't know who I'll be in a few days. No one does, not even Thayndor. So you'd be able to tell them that someone else is trying to infiltrate, but you'd never be able to tell them who." "I can give them a damn good description. A scar, for instance," Zia says mildly. "And that'll put you under two disguises, won't it? But anyway, that's not my point. Are you willing to work together, or not? An alibi when one is needed, a mind to bounce ideas off of. Two sets of eyes rather than one. Is that not more logical than going in alone?" "Yes," Wildfire nods, "I agree. At the very least, it will be nice to know I'm not in there alone." She smiles briefly, "I don't like the plan at all, to be perfectly frank, but someone's got to do something about all of this." Zia smiles, though she still looks vaguely uneasy as she shifts her position there on the edge of the bed. "Deal, then." She coughs into her hand and gives a grunt of irritation at the momentary distraction. "We will be less noticeable entering separately, rather than together, I think. I don't think I'll be enlisting... Not in so many words. But it is not such a far leap of thought for one possessed of an illness--like the one going around in this area now--too seek out those they trust specifically." She purses her lips, and shakes her head. "I don't like it either. Too risky, too many holes in it... but aye, someone must do it. What preparations do you need to make before we go?" "Makeup and a chat with Thayndor about some safety arrangements," Isa says, "I'm hoping with enough time to work on it that I might make this scar less noticeable, but what I've got to work with doesn't exactly erase things." Zia nods. "I must go to Road's End--but it shouldn't take long." She studies Isa's cheek, head canted slightly to the side. "Go to Trademeet," she recommends. "I think there are some there that make the paint the noble ladies wear, that you might be able to cover it up with. Or just ordinary paint that matches your skin tone. Just make sure you get enough to last you." She laces her fingers together in her lap, avoiding looking at her own scar, the one that runs the length of her left forearm. "Mm," Wildfire nods, "I'll have to take a look. My skin tone, though, is something I can change." She pulls aside the collar of her leathers, licks her thumb, and rubs at a spot previously covered up, revealing that she is, in fact, not as tan as she looks, "Powders are surprisingly versatile for things like that." Zia nods. "Aye, they are. But I think you'll need something thicker for that scar." "I've figured that out already," Wildfire remarks with a wry smirk, "Or else Isabelle Wildfire wouldn't have Marisa Greening's scar." She sighs, then, and runs a hand over her hair, "And soon I'll be someone else. I'm really getting sick of it all... I think I'm going to get some sleep. The more I think about this, the more inclined I am to consider backing out of it. Need to clear my head." "Aye... rest. And maybe pray, if you're that sort of person. We'll need all the luck we can get." Zia's brow furrows. "If I don't see you before, look for me here in Lightholder Tavern three days from now, aye?" Isa laughs, "Three days. That's how long Thayndor told me to wait." She nods, then, "I will. Take care, Zia." The girl gestures to the door with a bit of a smirk, "Going to let me out? You have the key, after all." Zia laughs, then, and gets up to unlock the door. "Aye. It'd be counterproductive to lock you up for a prisoner in here, wouldn't it?" She glances back to the window. "Probably pretty useless, too." The key twists in the lock, and the click of the mechanism announces the freeing of the door. "I'm trusting you, Risa," she says quietly. "Take care, rest well, Light's keep, etc." She grins, and opens the door. "You've got enough dirt on me that you don't need to," Isa points out, "Sleep well." She heads out into the hall, then, making towrads the stairs. "But I am," Zia says quietly, and shuts the door after Isa. ---- ''Return to Season 8 (2008) Category:Logs